


Hey There, Neighbour!

by QueenoftheHobbits



Series: Soft Thighs Series [18]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bit of angst in the middle, F/M, OOpS!, but mostly cute fluffy, overweight reader, plus size reader, this got out of hand and became very long, with mentions of sexual thoughts because Bucky is a man and tries to help it but can't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-15 01:35:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7200116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheHobbits/pseuds/QueenoftheHobbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your window is right across from your new neighbour's...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey There, Neighbour!

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by anon on tumblr: Could i request a bucky x reader one shot thats pre civil war, post winter solider where you and bucky live in apartments with windows facing each other and youre both lonely and stuff but you find comfort in watching the other kind of go about their routine?? Not in a weird way but like "shes eating ice cream and watching 13 going on 30 again??" Idk if u want them to actually meet and talk that would be swaggy 2. Plus sized reader would be dope but not necessary!! Love your work

You were lonely, it wasn’t hard to admit to that and it wasn’t hard to see it either. Living on your own, having friends who had lives they went on with without you, having no partner, no one to come home to at the end of the day, and having family in another place, not being able to see them...it all made you very lonely. Your apartment always felt empty, quiet, like it needed someone else there. Like it wasn’t enough with just you. And maybe it wasn’t, after all you were getting older and being alone wasn’t what you wanted for your life. You wanted to come home to a warm body and a laugh that you loved, to nights watching TV together, and stupid mornings, not an empty bed and an empty apartment. 

Until a man moved into the apartment building across from yours. His large bay window and yours were directly across from each other, and with you rarely closing your curtains and your new ‘neighbour’ having the same habit it almost felt like someone was there for once. It made your apartment seem less lonely because it was almost as if he was right there. It helped that the man across from you was incredibly handsome as well. 

You enjoyed knowing what he was up to almost like checking in on a friend and he, unbeknown to you felt much the same. Bucky was also lonely and it made him feel better to know that his neighbour was going about her day perfectly safely and to know that he could make sure she was okay and just see the normalcy of your day. It made living alone for the first time in 70 odd years easier. 

At first it had been a little awkward.

_You had gotten up early in the morning roughly around 7 o’clock because you had work to get ready for amongst other things and the need to give yourself time to go about your day without rushing was something you took very seriously. No one liked last minute rushes and you knew that if you did that you’d be irritated for most of the day._

_As per every morning you’d gotten up out of bed, stretched your back, and walked into your living room in your pajama shorts and shirt...that showed your large thighs, a good portion of cleavage, and all your lumps and bumps that you were pretty darn comfortable with after yours of working towards appreciating yourself. You’d been stumbling about your living room when your noticed movement from your window and actually stopped to look and that had been the first time you’d seen your new neighbour._

_He had been carrying a box through his living area, no curtains appeared to be up yet (not that he’d ever use them anyway as you later found out) and he’d been in a vest top and jeans. It left little to the imagination when it came to his torso, and you were embarrassed to admit that one of the first things you noticed about him other than the metal prosthetic was the buff, muscular figure that he held. Because your new neighbour had the most amazing arms and what looked like very strong shoulders, and dark hair that he had in a bun that rather than making him look snobbish and ‘alternative’ made him look down to earth and adorable..._

_And he’d caught you staring; when blue eyes connected with yours you didn’t really have any option but to awkwardly smile and wave jauntily...and then feel heat fill your cheeks because you weren’t wearing many clothes and a stranger was waving back at you with a confused smile while you looked perhaps your worst because you’d just woken up....and you were wearing your pajamas covered in pizza slices..._

_On Bucky’s end he had actually been rather stunned, the confusion wasn’t based upon that his neighbour was awkwardly waving at him as he tried to move in (which was a first in 70 odd years, living alone that was), but rather upon the fact that his neighbour was a very adorable women in her pajamas who made him feel that very old but familiar feeling of butterflies in his stomach. You were beautiful; thick thighs (which he really didn’t want to think about too much because then he’d have a little problem because he knew it was incredibly wrong to think about being between his new neighbour’s thighs especially when he didn’t even know her name), what he could see of a soft stomach that curved in a way that was just adorable, mussed up hair, tired eyes, and cute toes...and all in all he knew he was going to struggle living across from a women that beautiful who obviously didn’t close her curtains often (and you didn’t. Ever)._

_So he waved back, one hand holding a box of kitchen stuff and the other waving back to his neighbour something that felt so surreal and strange. He didn’t look away until you scurried away to make yourself breakfast, hiding yourself in your kitchen rather than showing your attractive neighbour the majority of your body and bedhead._

From that point on you and your neighbour would wave at each other if you looked up and eventually you both relaxed enough that you both could simply go about your day without being especially aware of the other’s eyes being on you. It was relaxing for both you and Bucky to be able to see what the other was doing, and sometimes it meant you could help each other without truly meeting and without even knowing each other’s names. 

_Bucky had nightmares a lot, or rather his mind decided to help him remember things while he was trying to sleep...more often than not it would be bad memories, people he killed, falling from that train, being systematically tortured and brain washed over a period of time that would break anyone no matter how strong. And on those nights he’d wake some time in the early morning, his lamp might be broken from a fitful swing, his sheets tangled across his legs, and sweat covering him...and so he’d get up, grateful that his bedroom was soundproofed so that his neighbours didn’t try to get him kicked out, and he’d head into his living area in his sweatpants and sit on the sofa that stared right out into your apartment._

_You always knew when he was having one of those nights, more often than not you had the bad habit of staying up until 1 or 2 in the morning reading whatever book you’d gotten into, and so you’d always see his light flick on and his body come into view as he slumped down on his sofa looking very much like the weight of the world was on his shoulders._

_You didn’t, on those nights, care much for staring at his body, it was impressive certainly, but you never focused on that when he was obviously in pain. That was never the time nor the place. Instead you’d place your bookmark down between the pages of your most recent book and walk to your desk picking up some large pieces of paper and a sharpie. You would draw him pictures, terrible some of them really, funny little things, and write little messages to tell him that it was okay and that you hoped he felt better. You’d blu tac the pieces of paper to your windows and hope that the light from your living room would be enough for him to see them._

_And it always was, he’d always look up to see you reading one minute and then scribbling on paper the next and then slowly you’d build this wall just for him. Words of encouragement, reminders that it was okay to have bad nights, and then there were the silly pictures, pictures of the guy who kept going through both your bins, pictures of the cat that seemed to always find it’s way into his apartment that you’d taken note of and probably thought was his. It was almost childish, but Bucky appreciated it, he appreciated that a complete stranger (who trusted him enough to keep her curtains open 24/7) would do that for him and in return he tried to do his own things for you._

_Because some days he’d stroll into his apartment later in the evenings and he’d find himself looking across to your window and Bucky would see you all dolled up sitting in your favourite chair (he knew it was your favourite seeing as you never sat anywhere else) and crying or eating some form of ice-cream...and he knew without asking or talking that once again some asshole had stood you up._

_For you those nights were the worst, the nights where you’d dress up in your best, feeling confident, feeling gorgeous, feeling beautiful, feeling like the width of your hips was sexy, feeling like the curves of your torso was a gift, and then you’d turn up at whatever meeting place you’d set...and you’d wait there...and wait there...and wait there, and an hour would go by with pitying looks from your waitress and you’d realise that once again some asshole had stood you up. And once again you’d go home and you’d read a message on your phone and sometimes it was an apology, a fake excuse, and sometimes it was nasty. A comment about your weight, a comment about your face, a comment that picked at something and used that to justify leaving you there for a whole hour...and then you’d sit in your chair not even bothering to get changed and you’d feel like shit._

_But your neighbour would always turn up, trailing in through his door, his eyes gravitating to your window and he’d noticed, he’d frown, those eyes becoming steely and intense...and then he’d gesture for you to open your window slightly and you would and then he’d open his and Bucky wouldn’t speak, instead he’d play music he knew from before. Songs by the Andrew Sisters and Harry James and Arthur Askey, and he’d mime dancing with you and you’d do the same and with meters worth of space between you two you’d pretend that your neighbour had taken you on that date, that your neighbour had eaten dinner with you, and that your neighbour took you out to dance. And it was silly, you knew that his smile was because you’d giggle at the way you’d trip about, and it was awfully childish but it always made you feel better. You never questioned the music choice, he was a beefy guy and yes it was odd to think of a guy like him liking music from 7 to 8 decades ago, but you liked it too, and it was calming in a way to escape that reality. The reality in which dating was going terribly and you lived alone and pined after warm arms._

_At the end Bucky would watch his neighbour close her window, smile at him and wave and disappear...and you’d never speak together, despite the option you’d never talk. But Bucky hated and loved those nights because while you were sad, while his beautiful neighbour with the amazing hips and the wonderful smile was sad, he also got to see you smile because of him. He got to hear you giggle as you clumsily danced around with an imaginary him...and he felt lighter after those nights as much as he hated to see you get stood up so often for what reason he was never sure. Why someone would stand up his neighbour, his beautiful neighbour, who wore Captain America pajamas (he’d failed to tell Steve over fear that Steve would bug him about said neighbour) and read books until 2 am and would jump around on her sofa like a child and eat ice-cream at midnight with no other reason than that she wanted too...he couldn’t comprehend anyone standing his neighbour up, standing you up and yet they did and he was the lucky bugger that got to make you smile when things were bad._

Slowly despite never physically or verbally meeting your neighbour, despite not knowing his name or what he did for a living, you grew incredibly fond of him and in a way you did know him. You knew that he struggled with nightmares, that his skin was marred with scars, you knew that he watched a lot of movies and he always seemed so confused by them, you knew that he didn’t have friends round very often or really at all, you knew that he had the sweetest smile and liked old music, and you knew so much more just because you lived across from each other and essentially through your two windows had been living together for months. 

Bucky had a similar predicament, he knew that he trusted you with his nightmares and his vulnerable states more than even Steve, he knew that you really liked reading, and that you would walk around in hardly any clothing and then seemingly remember he was there and give him a bashful look, he knew that you had been trying to date but it wasn’t going anywhere, that you were clumsy and tripped over things a lot, he knew about the stretchmarks and he saw the moments of self-consciousness and he grew to feel like you were his friend even though he knew nothing about you, even though he’d never held a conversation with you or even been less than the distance between your two buildings near you. But you’d both created a friendship and a rapport without even needing to speak and it was simple and it made you both feel less lonely, but each day you craved to talk to him more and more, and each time he had a nightmare you wanted to physically be there...and the both of you grew needier in a way because the distance was too much when you knew someone’s everyday life so intimately. 

Bucky increasingly felt ashamed of thinking about his neighbour in a sexual light, some nights were spend with a different type of heavy breathing and sweat than the usual caused by bad memories...and you yourself felt bad for staring whenever your neighbour walked through his house in his pajama bottoms or took off his shirt after a run around the block. So often so that you started to stay out of your house during those times.

You’d in fact left your apartment that morning with the intention of going to the shops to get some more food, you didn’t see him nor did you see the crack in the pavement in front of you, but he did. Bucky had left his house, hair in a bun, work out clothes on ready to run around the block before heading off to the Tower because something or someone was probably trying to destroy the world again and as was now his life he was trying his best to do good and help people, to make up for what he hadn’t been able to control doing for so many years.

He saw you first, striding your way down the pavement in his direction, a happy bounce to your step and he found himself smiling and then frowning as he noticed the deep crack in the sidewalk you were heading towards. He knew you were clumsy he’d learnt that, you could trip over your coffee table and that was in plain view, so he practically saw it coming, he could already imagine you falling to the pavement with a broken ankle or some other hurt. 

He didn’t stop himself (not that he was sure he could have) as he practically bounded forward in a rush and just in time as you let out a squeak as your foot caught in that crack and you went careening forward until arms, one cold and one war, wrapped around your soft waist and your hands fell on a broad chest as you stopped falling. 

And then you looked up and it was your neighbour, your neighbour who was looking you over as if he thought you’d actually gotten hurt despite his involvement, your neighbour with his hair pulled back, and his blue eyes and the stubble you weren’t sure he could ever get rid of, your neighbour that only now standing this close next to him did you realise was very tall and very strong and most certainly could probably lift you over his head with one arm...and all you could say was “Hi...” in that breathy sort of way because you were meeting your neighbour who you had lived across from and gotten to know weirdly intimately for the first time in the months since he’d moved in across from your building.

“Hi.” Bucky wasn’t sure what else to say when your soft warm body was pressed against his, when your little hands and rounded fingers were gripping at his chest, and his hands were wrapped around your waist and were very near to the breadth of your hips that he’d thought about on more than one occasion.

“I’m...my...you’re my neighbour...” You wanted to hit yourself for being so stupid...of course he was your neighbour, he knew that already. But Bucky just smiled, it was...sweet, you were obviously as taken aback as him, nervous even. A good nervous too...not the nervous where you were intimidated by him.

“Bucky, my name is Bucky.”

“Y/N...It’s...it’s nice to finally meet you Bucky” and then you were talking as if you’d known each other for months which in a way you had and then he was asking you out on a date and he hadn’t been out on a date in decades...but he wanted to go out on one with you. He wanted to be the guy who didn’t stand you up, who you got dressed up for, who you walked home with...he didn’t want to meet you and then only ever see you through those windows ever again. He wanted more than that...and you did too. You both wanted a relationship to stem from silent conversations through adjacent windows. 


End file.
